10/24/2006

Sweet and Savory

Barn as seen from Marshall hideaway on dusty road, 2006. To know me, you need to know this: I love a challenge. I may groan and complain about new ways of being and thinking, but I truly love the process of growth. Evolving as a human, and knowing that I can do it right up until I die, excites me tremendously. Today above-mentioned friend showed me a birthday card that her daughter gave to her. It read, "To change we must survive, to survive we must change." It rolls around in my mind like a caramel dipped apple in chopped peanuts, resounding a sweet and savory truth. My story is not unlike many others. I come from a family of deep wounds spanning back as many impoverished generations as we can count. While healing those wounds and breaking the mold are the most important thing to me, they aren't to other people in my family. I've had to learn to seperate from them and let them go, loving them only from afar. It is so painful, as I'm sure you can relate, to witness patterns repeating in loved ones. It has been difficult to step away knowing that I can't endorse such behavior, because to do so results in that enabling thingy. Love doesn't mean we help those who don't help themselves. I'm learning. I'm pulling out of a slumpy mood. This season has brought heartbreak and then enlightenment, and now I'm ready to have fun, get crafty and take Christmas pictures! I remember my friend Maggie saying years ago that she liked to listen to Christmas music any time of the year because it just makes her happy. I couldn't agree more and have not packed my cds away for the past two holidays. I've been bumpin' Ella's Swingin Christmas in my momcar for weeks! Coping/grieving and living zestily on my own terms provides a contrast I'm sure you can relate to. We are so similar, you and I.

5 Comments:

Anonymous gangie said...

my glasses fog when i get teary-eyed, but i know if i'm patient and i can just... be... still, things will become clear once again. sometimes it's better for me to do that then take them off and wipe them. just...be...still.
and sometimes my vision of a situation is blurred and i can't see it clearly until i be still, talk to you, read your blog, pray, or all of the aforementioned.
thank you for these beautiful and wise words.

10/24/2006 08:24:00 PM  
Blogger OmmmMaggie said...

Wow, I made your blog! :-) Oh Pixie, your wisdom is like the warm, slightly scratchy and sentimental blanket around my shoulders. I am fresh from another Seemorg seminar - Healing the Wounded Spirit - and I am more than ever convinced that not only must we heal the pain of the past, but that we actually CAN do so, finding peace and growth and center. It is thrilling and divine.
I love you and can't wait to talk.
Much love,
Maggie

10/24/2006 11:02:00 PM  
Blogger Wendy said...

Oh, Pixie, I've missed you so. Your post was the perfect way to begin my day.
xoxo,
W

10/25/2006 03:16:00 AM  
Blogger Julie said...

Hey sister chick! One of my deepest fears about coming to terms with my father's addiction is that I will have a hard time relating to my family once I have come to terms with my past. Does that make sense?

You inspire me sugar! And I LOVE the Christmas music idea! It is fall and yummy here, but Christmas music would make it even better!

10/25/2006 03:57:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

To my suprise we are more similair that I realized. Breaking cycles is the hardest job I have ever had. I work on it every single day.
Good for you to make comfortable boundries.

10/27/2006 05:34:00 AM  

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